Symphony
by Snow Bender
Summary: With darkness rising, will the incoming class at the DWMA be able to overcome the overwhelming obstacles and complete the mission to defeat a new type of evil? (SYOC closed)((summary subject to change))
1. Prologue, pt I

It was not often that there was a joining class so small at the DWMA, but Death supposed the school had been declining for quite some time now. It wasn't that there was a decrease in Kishin eggs or witches to fight - it simply appeared that there were fewer Meisters and Weapons who wanted to help out. That, or there were fewer Meisters and Weapons being born, which made sense. But either way, the fact of the matter was that the school was not as busy as it used to be, and that there was certainly more evil running rampant in the world because of it.

The Shinigami sighed as he watched through his mirror, watching the teenagers as they headed through the doors and into the school for the first time; Meister and Weapon tags adorned their chests. There were a few that really stood out to him, with stronger souls or an obvious desire to be there. Of course, Death knew them all by name, as he'd seen their pictures in their forms.

One soul in particular was bringing a smile to the face behind the mask. A bright, exuberant green that bounced around in excitement as the person who possessed it entered the room of waiting students. From the flightiness of the soul, there would be no question as to why she was late in joining the others. It was likely that the young girl had gotten distracted by something outside and forgotten about the fact that she should be finding a partner that day. Typically, most Weapons and Meisters alike were quite punctual at the DWMA, but there was always the odd tardy one.

Which, this year, apparently was Mirielle Noor.

She'd be a fun one to watch; her soul was enthusiastic as she bounced around the room, person to person. It would be interesting to see what type of person could match with such a bright soul, but he was almost positive that there would be a partner for her. Just like he was positive that there would be a partner for each and every single Weapon and Meister present. It was the whole point of putting an equal number of them in a room - so that they would hit it off and connect and work together to rid the world of evil.

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

As the darkness encroached around the bubble that Death's soul had made around Death City, the shinigami could only hope that the small group were capable.

This was not a class who would have a normal DWMA experience of becoming Death Scythes and collecting souls.

This was a class who would determine the fate of the world.

* * *

 **An -** _It has been a while since I've been on here! I've been going through a heckuva lot lately, but now that I'm free from college (for the time being) and feeling more relaxed, I want to delve back into fanfiction a bit! And, since I am currently on a Soul Eater kick, I have decided to go ahead and write up a little something to help occupy my free time._

The rules are simple...

 **PM me your characters.**

 **Put detail in your forms.**

 **One character per person.**

 **No relations to canon characters whatsoever.**

 **Review when possible!**

 **Have tons of fun!**

 _The form will be on my profile, as short and sweet as I can possibly make it. I want this to be fun, not a chore!_

Oh, and it needs to be said - Lord Death is basically the only canon character present in this story.

 _Love,_

Snowy


	2. Prologue, pt II

_She had fought for years for this opportunity. Her family needed her - now more than ever - and she was just going to_ leave _them like this. Her father was beyond pissed; he argued and screamed and attempted to force her to stay with him and her siblings to work as a mechanic for the rest of her life. But the girl wasn't like the rest of the Noor family - she wasn't even sure where the Meister in her came from, but she knew that she had to make use of the chance she had to make the world better. It was a horrible place, dark and corrupt. There weren't enough Meisters and Weapons to keep it safe enough for the people who lived there._

 _So, when the girl had found out that she was capable of sensing souls, she decided to do some research on the subject. The more she read and the more she learned only affirmed her decision to become a true Meister. She needed to attend the DWMA, she needed to get out of the family business, and she needed to help people instead of just working on cars._

 _Her father had never agreed to her decision, so she took matters into her own hands. Late one night, she filled out an online application for the academy, packed her things and snuck out. She stole an old beater she'd fixed herself, and headed for Death City. She was absolutely determined to do this the right way._

* * *

Mirielle had the world's biggest cowlick. She had overslept on her very first day at the DWMA - the day where she was supposed to meet her partner and have her entire life changed - and had not had time to fix her appearance. The sunny blonde's hair was sticking up in all different directions, curling wildly and pressed down flat on the left side. Which was bad enough on its own, considering that she had been intending on making a good impression that day. Unfortunately, her terrible sense of direction ended up taking her in circles and dragging her this way and that. Truthfully, the school was rather easy to find, and had she been thinking more clearly, she would have just climbed up on top of a roof to see it.

Eventually, she found her way with the help of a nice elderly couple, and had soon found herself at the foot of what seemed like ten million steps. Which wasn't a huge problem, except for the fact that she was already ten minutes late and there was a really cute kitten trapped up in a tree that was planted at the base of the stairs. So, naturally, she _had_ to help it. It was her civic duty as a Meister - or something like that.

In all, the rescue took about five _more_ minutes. In that time, Mir hoisted herself into the tree after the kitten, failed at coaxing it toward her, and pretended the branch was a tightrope as she nimbly tiptoed her way over to the tiny cat. Apparently, the branch itself was not meant for her extra weight, and snapped. The cat - being a species with a tail to use for balance - landed on its feet. Mir - being an especially clumsy version of a species without a tail for balance - did not. She had ended up sprawled out on the grass, leaves in her hair and clothing askew. As though she didn't look messy enough already - now she had to deal with bark and grass and sap and leaves alongside the mismatched clothing and chaotic hair.

But, regardless... the mission was successful. The cat was on solid ground, and Mir was free to go along on her merry way up the stairs.

The girl sprinted the rest of the way, and only slowed when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the way toward the classroom. She stopped in her tracks and made a desperate attempt to neaten the rat's nest of her hair, and clean a bit of the dirt off of her cheeks. She straightened her clothes - which were, in fact, too big for her. She was much too small for normal-people clothing - and managed to get most of the leaves off of her person.

Satisfied enough that she didn't look like some sort of forest monster, the girl met her own hazel eyes in the mirror and offered herself a grin.

"Alright, Miri. You got this." Her soul gave an energetic leap inside of her - as if to say _let's go! -_ and the girl turned to stride confidently into the classroom.

Twenty-two minutes late.

* * *

 **An -** _Okay, short, sucky chapter, but all the chapters should be longer after I decide which characters that I want in the story. I'm still deciding, and waiting on more submissions, but don't be shy! Please continue to share ideas and your characters with me, and thank you all who have submitted so far!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	3. Character List

**MEISTERS**

 **Mirielle Noor** \- female - 16 - Snow Bender  
-A short, skinny girl. She stands in at about 5'3" and weighs in at 90lbs. She has chaotic, wildly curly golden blonde hair that reaches down to around her chin, with bangs that get all in her greenish hazel eyes.  
-Her soul is an exuberant shade of neon, pastel green. It is almost always plastered with a smile. It is energetic and flexible, best suited for someone with a stronger soul.  
-She is wild and adventurous, decisive and bold. She's nearly entirely fearless, and incessently stubborn, with a good heart. She is extremely loyal with her partner, and would pay attention to their likes and dislikes. However, she's a bit of an airhead and is very easily distracted, and highly emotional in all directions. When she is happy, she's very happy. When she is sad, she is very sad. Luckily, the negative emotions only stick around for a few moments, as she's quite optimistic. Negatively, she has a tendency to be naive or irritating.

 **Hiro Frost Kudo** \- male - 16 - KenjiSpiritSlasher  
-A thin, petite boy who stands in at 4'11" and weighs 99lbs. He has spiky silver hair and big, round blue eyes.  
-His soul is cyan, with a simple smile or a determined grin depending on resonance rate. He refuses to use projectile Weapons and avoids heavier Weapons.  
-Random. He pretends to be lazy, but likes homework, and gets decent grades. Quite shy and agreeable around new people, but has a cynical and arrogant side that comes out over time. He is reluctant about being at the DWMA, and gets scared easily. He is highly loyal and always puts other people's best interests first. He's very loyal with his Weapon, and tries to always think of others before himself. He is not interested in romance.

 **Aria Cook** \- female - 16 - AnonChan1  
-Aria is a tiny girl, standing in at 5'0" and weighing 97lbs. She has shoulder-length coffee brown hair and lazy, cautious, catlike amber eyes.  
-Her soul is pastel purple with half-closed eyes and two longer tails leading off the top of it.  
-Her top three traits are cautious, calm, and caring. She's definitely the "mom friend" of any group, and seems to have an endless well of patience. This is because she has helped raise her seven younger siblings. She tends to not care for herself, merely because she forgets to do it in her need to take care of her brothers and sisters. She likes to help people, and is quite easy to befriend.

 **Sunday Marian Lark** \- female - 17 - The Fallen Magelet  
-The tallest Meister, Sunday stands in at 5'6" and weighs 139lbs. She has a soft, hourglass body, large blue eyes, and a curly bob of carrot orange hair.  
-Her soul is carrot orange and very shy, with a white dot underneath the right eye. Tends to have an embarrassed expression.  
-Rather shy and softspoken. Very clumsy and quite awkward, she tends to seem childish. She's kind of blunt and honest, and resorts to violence when she gets angry or embarrassed - but always apologizes afterward. She relies very heavily on her Weapon partner to get her through fights, and strives to be someone who can protect others. She is very anxious. Comically, she is not a morning person, and needs a lot of caffeine to get herself up and going in the morning. When she is sleepy, she clings to the nearest person in place of her stuffed animals.

* * *

 **WEAPONS**

 **Karasuba** **Ōritsutaka** \- male - 17 - HiroshitheHawk  
-A tall, lean boy. He stands at 6'2" and weighs 176lbs. He has long, midnight blue hair that he keeps in a messy ponytail, and almond-shaped, dark brown eyes.  
-Weapon form is a kyoketsu-shoge, a double-edged blade that is connected by a long, midnight blue chain to a ring on the other end. Better suited for a female Meister.  
-His soul is a strong, dark blue soul that appears to be vibrating rapidly. It has a spiky tail, not unlike his ponytail, and looks disinterested.  
-Highly stubborn, antisocial, and blunt, Karasuba is not one to have many friends or companions. However, he is incredibly smart, observant, and astute - he notices almost everything, and is considered empathetic. He's socially inept, and doesn't really know how to approach others, and is very difficult to get to know.

 **Twain Thaddeus Thorndyke** \- male - 16 - NitroTheKidd88  
-A lanky boy, standing in at 5'8" and weighing about 150lbs. He has short-cut, messy, pale blue hair that appears white in some places. His eyes are amber-red and almond-shaped.  
-Weapon form is a spear with a black, metal staff with a long, curved blade on the end and golden swirls winding up the blade. A white ribbon is tied at the base of the blade.  
-His soul is well-trained, light blue in color. It's very bright with a wispy antennae on top, and a soft smirk on its face. It seems smaller than most souls.  
-Twain is very kind, polite, and formal - especially to people in positions of power or his seniors. He's very vocal about his thoughts, feelings and complaints, and cannot sit still for long periods of time. He's very curious, open with personal information, and a dedicated partner for his Meister.

 **Vanessa Ens Gertrude Amula** \- female - 16 - Anthem of the Night  
-A very tall girl, standing in at 5'11" and weighing 170lbs. She has a very thin, hourglass-shaped body, waist-length, coal black hair, and gray eyes.  
-Weapon form is a pearl-white longbow with Celtic engravings. The arrows will be the color of the Meister's wavelength, normally.  
-Her soul is pure white with a long tail that ends in an arrow. Typically, the soul wears a soft smile on its face that morphs into a jester-like grin when she's about to prank someone.  
-She comes off as a very gruff person, unapologetic in nature. She likes to maintain a façade of IDGAF, even though she gives a great many Fs. She's highly independent and likes to do things on her own, but this is mainly because she doesn't want anyone else to get hurt. She is very affectionate toward people she knows and loves, however, and is a closet Mythology nerd.

 **Aland Grimoire** \- male - 17 - TheDreamSketchCrew  
-A skinny, lean young man standing in at 5'9" and a half and weighing 125lbs. He has chin-length, crimson red hair and shaded gray eyes.  
-Weapon form is a beaten-up pitch black gun. It's a sniper rifle, covered with accessories that he wears in his human form. Capable of camoflague.  
-His soul is a bright crimson, angry spike ball. It almost resembles the laughing sun in the sky, with white outlines and a crazy grin on its face. The soul fluctuates rapidly like a heart beat.  
-Obsessed with unruly, bad behavior, he wants to be the world's greatest evildoer. Thuglike and brutish, he likes to scare people, and can be considered a bit of a bully. He dislikes rules and laws, and has an inclination toward madness. He hates neglectful or abusive leaders, and people who don't own up to their actions.

* * *

 **An -** _If your character is not on this list, please do not freak out! These are just the eight main characters that will form the four pairs that the story will be following. Most of the characters I have received will appear in this story, so please do not worry at all!_

 _I will be taking this list down later, as I understand it is not a story chapter, but I need to put this here for reference so that the creators and I can decide who will be best suited to partner with who._

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	4. Chapter I

**([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 14th, 2017 _  
_8:22 a.m. _  
Aland Grimoire_

* * *

Aland was pissed. Not that he wasn't usually pissed - it was simply that he was more pissed now than he had been before he got to the DWMA. The students around him were filled with chatter and excitement as they synced up with their partners for the first time. Hell, he didn't even want to be there in the first place - it had been a serious lapse in his judgment to enroll to the DWMA at all. He'd actually been in a halfway decent - for him, at least - mood before everyone else started getting all buddy-buddy. Even then, he'd been only slightly ticked. It had only been when he realized literally everyone in the room had partnered up together, and he was sitting alone in the corner without even the option of a partner that he had simply felt cheated.

It wasn't even that he _wanted_ a partner. He probably could have found one, had he not told each potential Meister that he hoped to be a Kishin someday _._ That tended to be an obstacle that he didn't think many people would be able to look past - especially at a school dedicated to killing things that were evilly inclined. Most of them had just given a soft _'Oookayyyy,'_ and went on their merry way to find a partner better-suited for their personal, petty moral standards.

He supposed it was fitting for him. After all, in monster movies, the monsters didn't usually make friends.

The crimson-haired boy got to his feet with a disapproving scoff and said nothing as he headed toward the door. No one tried to stop him - it was likely that he'd scared a great many of his potential classmates. That, or they just wanted him gone. Neither assumption would be far off the mark. But regardless, he reached the door to the classroom uninhibited, and turned the knob to exit.

He was stopped by a light bump to his chest. Well, _stopped_ was a strong word - he probably could've just plowed right through the obstacle if he had wanted, since it just came up to his chest, but the surprise - and _curiosity_ \- of it caused him to halt. Gray eyes turned downward to see a very messy pile of honey blonde hair pressed to his chest. The instant he looked down, the blonde monstrosity pulled backward, something sticky on its nose pulling his hoodie a bit before it detached. Aland was suddenly met with a set of wide, greenish hazel eyes staring up at him. It was a girl, short and engulfed in an oversized, patchy, obnoxiously-rainbow-colored sweater.

The girl grinned up at him and pointed to her nose. "Sorry - sap," she said, by way of explanation. The sweater fell off of one shoulder and came down to her mid-thigh. The frayed shorts she had underneath were patterned in a way that completely clashed with the sweater, and she was wearing two different-colored, different-length socks. She appeared to have been in a fight beforehand, judging by her disheveled appearance. Perhaps with a tree, if the stickiness of her face was due to sap.

Alan noticed a leaf in her tangled hair, then. Definitely a fight with a tree.

"Oh!" the girl went on quickly, pointing at the tag on Aland's chest that read ' _Weapon_.' She pointed to her own chest, where her ' _Meister_ ' tag was torn nearly in half. "It's fate!" The proclamation was loud and obnoxious. "Have you found a Meister yet?"

The redhead wrinkled his nose and snorted. "No, and I'm not lookin' - no one in this jacked-up place will fit with my soul. 'Sides, they're all set up together anyway." He made a move to brush past her, his heart set on brushing someone down for money outside. He missed the way the girl's eyes widened, and managed three steps out of the classroom before something latched onto his left arm. A snarl curled his lip when he looked over and the young Meister was clinging to the crook of his elbow, both hands tangled in the fabric of his black hoodie. Her heels were dug into the linoleum below, fully intent on stopping him from leaving.

"How do you know if you won't try?" she asked, teeth gritted as she pulled him in the opposite direction.

It didn't take much for him to resist - she was kind of a wimp. He simply angled his weight forward, and she had to shift to balance her weight. But her grip tightened, and if Aland had anything to say about the kid, she had a helluva grip. He waved his arm and brought her feet off of the ground, but she still stubbornly hung on. Kind of like a leech or something.

"Let go of me," the Weapon demanded, brows furrowing. She was beginning to dance on his nerves.

The girl's feet were still dangling off the ground as she replied. Or, well, _countered._ "Where are you going?" she asked, hazel eyes open and watching him from over his bicep.

He didn't have to think very hard. "Gonna go steal something from some of the suckers in town. I am evil, after all," he stated confidently, giving his arm another halfhearted shake to try and rid it of the pest. Regardless of if she was on his nerves or not, her stubbornness and determination was commendable. Kind of impressive, really, for a creature of her size.

All of a sudden, her grip released and she hurried over to stand before him, arms outstretched wide. "I can't let you do that." Her tone was firm, her eyes narrowed. "I'm officially a DWMA Meister, and I have a duty to defend innocent people from bad guys who like to steal things."

"I don't think you could do much against me." Again, he was confident in his assumption. She was just so small, like most of the Meisters in the room behind them had been. "Not like a Meister can do much without a Weapon, anyway." He moved to walk around her, but the girl ran over to plant herself in the forefront of his vision again.

"Be my Weapon, then!" she demanded, her nostrils flaring dramatically. It was at that moment that Aland determined the young Meister to be insane.

He arched one eyebrow, shoving his hands in his pockets and positioning himself so that he was looking down his nose at her. "Are you a complete idiot? Why would you want an evil Weapon to be your partner?" He snorted in disbelief. "Would it change your mind to know that I want to be a Kishin, eventually?"

She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her puffed-out cheeks as she glared at him. "It makes me want to be your partner more." Her gaze never wavered from his. "Maybe _I_ can change _your_ mind."

No, she couldn't, but it was obvious that she _believed_ she could. The two of them stood in silence for a few stiff moments, hazel eyes clashing with gray. Eventually, when it became clear that the girl wasn't going to move or speak, Aland decided to break the quiet. He blew out a heavy, longsuffering sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "What's your name, then?"

Her eyes lit up and a grin plastered itself on her face. She looked as though she'd just won a battle, of sorts. "Mirielle Noor!" she introduced enthusiastically, extending her hand toward him for him to shake. "Everyone always just calls me Mir, though. Sounds less annoying." She laughed at her own joke, chest ballooning out once or twice.

The crimson-haired boy could feel the impending regret as he took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "Aland Grimiore."

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

After all of the students had made their initial acquaintances and decided who they might want to be partnered with, they were all taken as a group outside to see if they were capable of soul resonance. The question of _if_ had come as a sort of surprise to Mirielle, as the girl seemed to be convinced that she and Aland could resonate. The boy had heard that some Meisters were capable of seeing souls, so perhaps the blonde really _did_ know that.

But whether they could or not was irrelevant. They were in direct opposition to one another, and there was no doubt in Aland's mind that he would win.

"Good morning, students!" The teacher's voice broke the brooding boy out of his musings. Their instructor was a large man, well over six feet, with odd green hair and brown eyes. He approached from one of the doors that led out onto the roof, and had clearly decided to wait until all the teenagers were lined up to make his entrance. "My name is Professor McNamara, and I will be instructing you all on the art of resonance today. I will have my Weapon partner, Professor Hennessey, to assist me."

Another man came out, then. He was a few inches shorter than his Meister, with curly auburn hair and dull blue eyes. He flashed them all a smile and took the hand that Professor McNamara had offered to him. He transformed in a flash of vivid light, morphing into some sort of double-sided sword that was nearly as big as his Meister's body. However, the green-haired man held him as though he weighed nothing; it was clear to anyone watching that the two of them were deeply connected on a soul level. Nobody could carry a blade that heavy otherwise.

He demonstrated a few attacks - quick, simple, and fluid - before Professor Hennessey returned back to human form. The redhead didn't speak, but instead leaned on the fence that would keep him from falling backward off of the roof of the DWMA. Professor McNamara cracked one shoulder with a slight wince, then grinned at the teenagers before him.

"Seems easy, doesn't it? It's supposed to. Now," he drawled, heading to hop up and sit on the railing that his Weapon was leaned on, "I want each of you to come up, one pair at a time, and attempt to resonate in front of the class. No pressure or anything." He gave a playful wink to the students and leaned forward, clearly interested in seeing each of their attempts at resonance. "Any volunteers to go first?"

No one spoke up immediately - in fact, it seemed that most of them were trying to avoid eye contact with the Professors, as though they specifically did _not_ want to be called on. Aland didn't blame them; it was an intimidating prospect, humiliating yourself in front of your classmates. It wasn't as though everyone was going to resonate well, and some people might have to pick different partners.

A soft tug to the sleeve of his hoodie brought the crimson-haired young man's attention to the girl at his side. Mir's hazel eyes crinkled a little at the corners as she smiled. "Wanna go first?" she proposed, her sap-sticky hair falling in her face when she tipped her head.

Aland scoffed, thought it over for a moment, and shrugged one shoulder. "I guess - since no one else seems to have enough balls to." His voice was raised a bit higher than it needed to be, and he got a few glares for the comment. Again, however, it didn't seem to faze Mirielle, because the girl just smirked and took his wrist.

"Well, luckily enough, I have enough balls for both of us," she told him brightly, and proceeded to tug him forward to the forefront of the group. She raised her hand and spoke again, cutting off any retort he might have had at the insult to his manhood - he had insulted everyone else's, after all. "We'll go first, Professor McNamara!" she announced, stopping before the two teachers and releasing Aland's wrist.

The green-haired man returned her grin. "What are your names?" he inquired.

"I'm Mirielle Noor, Meister. This is Aland Gri-"

"Grimoire. Aland Grimoire, Weapon," the red-haired boy interjected, lip curling a bit in indignation. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't need my enemy to speak for me."

Mir rolled her eyes dramatically and reached out her hand to him. "Well, then, my enemy. Why don't you transform already?" Her tone was light and cheerful, clearly teasing his newfound title for her. But there was no point in starting an argument when he had agreed to come up in front of everyone and resonate with her.

"Go ahead," the professor prompted, leaning back a bit on the railing. His Weapon reached out to steady him, murmuring something about _'be careful.'_

Aland snorted and, without another word, let himself transform. He probably should've warned the small girl of his form - instead of one of the staffs or scythes, he was much more... heavy metal, he supposed. He doubted there were too many Meisters who could lift him with the ease it might take to use him. Of course, his type of Weapon was more stationary than most, so maybe it wouldn't be much of a problem.

He felt hands - still kind of sticky with sap - slow his fall, but he still clattered to the ground with a series of metallic clacks.

"You can turn into a _gun_?" Mir chirped, her eyes wide as she bent over to get a better look at his form. "That's amazing!"

The Weapon rolled his eyes from within his form. "A _sniper rifle,_ actually," he corrected, peering up at her from the metal. "You just gonna leave me on the ground all day, or are you going to pick me up so we can know if we're going to be able to do this or not?"

Mirielle gave a laugh as she reached down, her hands closing around the barrel and the grip of his form. She grunted a bit as she attempted to raise him up, and Aland felt her soul as it reached out to him. It was green where his was red, but not in a Christmas-color-scheme way. His color was much more dominating than hers, and for a second the Grimoire boy was convinced that he was going to overpower her entirely. His soul grinned at hers in its normal, maniacal way, and hers gave his a soft smile in return. It was weird, standing there in the dark with her, until her soul approached his again, asking for permission to connect.

As much as he hated it, this _was_ a two-way street, and Mir couldn't do it on her own. He heaved another huge sigh and returned the gesture, allowing the two of them to intertwine on a spiritual level.

His initial hesitation was tempered by the calmness she was exuding. It was a strange experience - more vulnerable than Aland was comfortable with. Mirielle was the feeling of a cool, sunny Spring day, filled with the scents of wildflowers and rain. Her soul tasted of sweet lemonade and a fruity lunch, and the touch of sunlight on his skin. It was the sound of laughter and birds chirping and a nearby stream babbling. It was the pressure on his wrist of an adventure buddy tugging him through the meadows and pressing flowers to his nose for him to smell. It was freedom and excitement and serenity, all at once. Aland wondered if he'd be able to see where she'd taken him, if they were to become used to resonating like this.

It was his turn to show her his soul, though. She was prompting him, pulling back to let him have more control of the situation. He extended his soul forward, and his senses were replaced by the feeling of a nearby, blazing fire. The grassy scent of the meadow was replaced by smoke and brimstone, and the light sunshine touch on the skin became a blistering heat. His soul was the taste of coal on your tongue, and the irony tinge of blood. It was burning and screaming and lighting the world on fire, molding it in the image he would want to see. The world was a corrupt place, and this was Aland's way of morphing it. He idly wondered if the sensations of her soul were _her_ version of a beautiful future.

He wasn't sure what to expect of her reaction. Fear, anger, confusion, panic? Any would be rather appropriate when experiencing the touch, scent, sound, and taste of a world being incinerated. For Aland, it was a good future, but most people wouldn't agree, and from the silence of Mirielle's soul, he could only expect that she disagreed, as well.

But then her soul moved in again, twining around his in a way that was reminiscent of a small plant growing through the concrete. It felt like a chastisement - as though she were scolding a naughty child for stealing from the cookie jar. _'No, no.'_ He could've sworn he could hear her laughing in amusement, and his soul bubbled angrily, but he didn't want to start a fight. For all that he felt nothing existed but himself and Mirielle, he knew that, in reality, they were standing in front of a class filled with students. It wouldn't do any good to burn his Meister on their first day. It would suck if he hurt the one person who seemed brave - or stupid - enough to associate themselves with him.

Still, he was positive he would overpower her, in the end. If he wanted to.

As far as he was concerned, they were just mortal enemies whose souls could work together.

The darkness rippled around him as he made the transformation back into his human form, and he had to blink a few times. It felt like he was coming out of a deep sleep, and for a second the brightness of the sun made him squint. Before him, Mir was doing the same, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. When she was done, she grinned up at him, a challenge in her gaze.

"So?" she prompted, leaning forward just a bit.

Aland exhaled sharply through his nose and looked to the side, eyes narrowed. "Fine, you can be my Meister." He felt his cheeks burn a bit and glared at her. "But we're still mortal enemies! You and I are rivals - good and evil. You got that?" he demanded, voice harsh and heated. "Mortal. Enemies."

Mir laughed and rocked back on her heels, hands folded innocently behind her back. "Yes, yes. Of course," she drawled sarcastically, then looked at their two professors. "Did we do alright?" It was clear in her tone that she knew that they had done at _least_ alright, as she sounded bright and excited, her soul wavelength bouncing about in exuberance. It was strange that he could feel it after their initial resonance and mutual agreement to become partners.

Professor McNamara grinned and leaned back on the railing. Again, Professor Hennessey reached out a hand to steady his Meister. "You did excellently. It appears that you two have a high chance of becoming wonderful partners, with work. With resonance, nothing is perfect on the first try. Heck, Nessey burned me the first time we resonated!" he laughed, elbowing his Weapon partner in the side. Professor Hennessey flushed pink and turned his head to the side, saying nothing. McNamara snorted and chuckled, then turned his attention back to his students. "Anyway, yes. You did as well as I've seen any two students do on their first try. You resonated for a whole seven and a half seconds!"

Aland's eyebrows raised a bit. "Felt like longer," he commented, shoving his hands in his pockets self-consciously.

"It always does," Professor Hennessey told him, addressing the students for the first time since his entrance. "It's the meeting of souls. It's not really a part of time as we know it, and it's also the first time you're getting to know your new partner. You come away from it with a better understanding for the Meister - or Weapon - as a friend rather than a stranger."

Mirielle raised a hand. "We're enemies," she interjected, shooting Aland a sly grin. He rolled his eyes.

Professor McNamara cackled again, nodding his head. "Or enemies!" he agreed, hopping off of his perch and clasping them each on the shoulder. "It's the first step in building your relationship, wherever you decide to take it." He glanced back at Professor Hennessey, raising his left hand and fiddling with the wedding band on his finger. Hennessey blushed a vibrant shade of red and looked down, raising his own left hand - he was wearing a matching band.

"Enemies," Aland reasserted, crossing his arms and turning his back on the two professors and his new partner.

Mirielle let out a snicker and nodded, prancing over to take his wrist in her hand - the same way he'd felt when their souls connected. "Definitely!" she agreed, tugging on him to return back into the assembly. "Let's let somebody else go, now."

Aland tugged his hand from her grasp and pulled his hood over his head before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Lint stuck to the skin that she'd touched - _damn that sap_ \- and he growled low in his throat, but he could see no real reason to argue her point. Instead, he just let out a gruff, "Don't boss me around," and followed her to stand back in their row to watch some of the others resonate.

Professor McNamara grinned, watching them go, and stepped forward with his hands on his hips. "Alright! Who's next?"

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

 **An -** _That was way longer than I expected it to be - Aland is tons of fun to write! I'm sorry that this was so Mirielle and Aland-centric, but the next few chapters should be centered around some of the other characters._

 _I'm also so sorry if your characters didn't get matched up with your first choice for their Weapon or Meister! I'm glad that I was able to at least give everyone one of their top two, but I do feel bad that not everyone could have their number one. Please don't be discouraged! I have deep plans for each and every character I listed in the previous entry, so please just relax and enjoy the ride!_

 _The pairs are:  
Mirielle and Aland  
Karasuba and Sunday  
Twain and Hiro  
Aria and Vanessa_

 _Please review, ask questions, pm me, discuss plot ideas, etc.! I don't bite, and I love encouragement and criticism. Just don't be super harsh - I didn't proofread this chapter, so I'm absolutely positively positive that there are mistakes here and there. It's just so long, and I'm not into re-reading chapters xD_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	5. Chapter II

April 17th, 2017  
3:54 p.m.  
 _Sunday Marian Lark_

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

The past four days had been a chaotic whirlwind of activity. April thirteenth, the first day everything had become so chaotic, was when she was prepping everything that she would need for her admission into the DWMA. April fourteenth, she met her Weapon partner, Karasuba - who seemed about as socially awkward as she, herself, was. The next two days had been attending classes and trying to find an apartment suitable for herself, her one-hundred-and-three stuffed animals, and a giant, six-foot-two, brooding boy.

Oh, and the homework. There was a buttload of homework. The DWMA did _not_ mess around with the homework.

Overall, the girl was simply exhausted. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in four or five days, and she was about ready to flop facefirst into bed at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, her older sisters had just gotten around to mailing her stuffed animals to her, and the tiny living room of her apartment was covered in boxes of her collectables. As much as she would have adored to just sleep the rest of the day away, there was simply no possibility that she could leave her brand-new apartment in such a state. What would Karasuba think when he got home to such a mess, anyway? The raven-haired boy had gone to pick up some pastries at a bakery before heading home for the day, and Sunday wanted to make everything look nice for him.

It had been a weird adjustment - deciding to move in with her Weapon partner. But it was natural; there was almost no set of partners at the DWMA that _didn't_ live together. Sunny could understand the desire to be close to your partner, but it was still really awkward to move in with a guy you'd just met. She wasn't like that one girl she had met the other day - Mirielle - who had just dragged her Weapon off enthusiastically to find a place to live. No, Sunday was more... hesitant. Shy.

But she _had_ opened her soul to this boy, and he had opened his to her. They'd fit together so easily, even though Karasuba's soul was jittery and strong. Sunny's softer orange soul had meshed nicely to his blue, and he transported her to a place filled with the melody of slow, soft violin music. Combined with her soul, the smell of buttery popcorn and the sensation of softness filled the dark room around them. It was impossible to see anything, per the norm for first-time resonation, but it was such a calm feeling that washed away any sense of awkwardness or fear. It felt like a safe place, and she liked that a lot. As a highly anxious person, she needed someone who could provide some soothing violin music to combat the nervousness of her own soul.

They were one of only four pairs that managed a resonation on their first try.

Surprising? To Sunday, yes. To more confident people, who understood that personalities and compatibility often had quite the impact on soul resonation? No. The two of them hadn't immediately become best friends or anything, but they had instantly had a sort of mutual appreciation for social ineptitude and calmness. Though... it had been kind of quiet and awkward between the two of them. You couldn't expect to fully know a person from one resonance and two days spent together.

Their living situation would help.

If, of course, Sunday could get all of these stuffed animals into her room before he got back. She wasn't sure how he'd handle being swamped with stuffed animals, and so she immediately got to work unboxing the plushies.

Fifteen minutes later, when she had gotten the last box emptied and all of her stuffed animals were on display on the floor, the front door to the apartment opened.

Sunday was sitting, cross-legged, in the floor - completely swamped with over one hundred well-cared-for-plushes. Karasuba was carrying a bag filled with delicious-smelling pastries. His eyebrows furrowed, and then he rolled his eyes with a scoff - likely irritated by her childlike behavior. Sunny felt a vibrant blush creep up her cheeks, and hurled one of her more solid stuffed animals - a unicorn - at the boy. It collided with his face, stuck there for a moment, and fell to the floor with a soft thud that would have only been heard in the silence of the room.

It took a moment for Sunday to realize her blunder, and she instantly leaped to her feet, face redder than before. "I'm so, so sorry!" she squeaked, rushing over to inspect any damage she might have done to her teammate's face - what if she broke his nose? What if she busted his lip? What if she blacked his eye? What if he lost a tooth?! Logically, she understood that there was no way that any of those things could have happened with something as light as a plushie, but logic wasn't playing a key role in her life at the moment. She was far too sleepy for that.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I mess up the pastries?!" Sunday's hands flew to her mouth, eyes round as she stared up at her Weapon.

Karasuba, however, seemed relatively unfazed. He wrinkled his nose and kicked the toy absently. "It's fine," he told her gruffly, then completely bypassed her and went into their kitchen to place the pastries on the counter. "You... have a lot of stuffed animals."

The carrot-haired girl picked up her unicorn and hugged it childishly to her chest. "I - uh - I collect them," she explained, her blush receding as she padded along behind him. "I have since I was really little, now. I couldn't move here without them. I was trying to put them all in my room, but you got home before I could get everything done." She released the unicorn with one hand and rifled through the pastries in the bag, eventually pulling out a cinnamon bagel and taking a massive bite. She hadn't realized she was starving until she saw the pastry bag.

"You shouldn't take such big bites. It's gross, and bad for your teeth." Karasuba's tone was condescending and blunt - he was one person who could rival Sunday herself in the bluntness department. She blushed again, and almost threw the unicorn at him again, but didn't respond. Instead, she headed into the living room to plop herself unceremoniously on the couch amongst her plushies.

A moment or two later, Karasuba joined her, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch with much more poise and grace. He flipped the television on, and switched it to Netflix. They had each set up an account on it, and he went to hers and selected one of her favorite anime series. The male protagonist was a tall boy with scary eyes that had a crush on the female protagonist's best friend, and the female protagonist a tiny girl with long brown hair that liked to beat people up and had a crush on male protagonist's best friend. It was the perfect shojou romcom, which happened to be Sunny's favorite genre. She was honestly surprised that Karasuba had remembered her preference, and even more surprised that he chose it over his own.

She looked over at him, mid-chew of her bagel, but he didn't return the look and instead went to the first episode of the anime series.

"I haven't watched it from the beginning," he said, by way of explanation, and leaned back on the couch to get comfortable. One of Sunny's stuffed animals was wedged between the back of the couch and Karasuba's spine, and squeaked when his weight pressed against it. The blue-haired boy rolled his eyes, reached behind him, and tossed the stuffed animal - a lion - to the side.

As irritating as it was to have him just throw her beloved stuffed animal aside, Sunny was far more fixated on the kindness in his former gesture of remembering her favorite anime. Maybe there was hope for them being friends, after all. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she rubbed them away with her unicorn and took another bite of her bagel while the theme song played.

Karasuba was obviously making a strong attempt at conversation - for him, anyway. "Why, exactly, are that man's irises so tiny? Its unnatural."

"It's for comedic effect, and it's a core part of the character. He's supposed to have a really scary look in his eyes, like his dad did. Ryuuji hates his eyes - it's part of the story," Sunday gushed, eager to explain some of the plot to her partner. It was good that he was interested in getting to know things about her, and as the two lapsed into silence to watch the show, she decided she would do the same for him.

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 17th, 2017  
6:20 p.m.  
 _Karasuba Oritsutaka_

* * *

Sunday had fallen asleep midway through episode one of their supposed-to-be anime marathon. He'd specifically chosen an anime he knew to be her favorite - because she had mentioned it briefly the other night - so that he could perhaps get to know her a bit better. Sure, she was shy, and irritating, and hit him when she got embarrassed, but she was still his Meister, and he needed to know her soul better than he knew his own. It wasn't a romantic thing, or a familial love, or anything - it was that he was drawn to be near her now that their souls were connected. He still didn't _like_ her, nor did he think of her in any way but an acquaintance. It was simply a tug that made him not hate interacting with her as much as everyone else.

He looked over at the girl, nestled amongst a metric ton of stuffed animals, and sighed through his nose. He tossed one of the plushies - a piglet - at her, and it bounced off of the top of her orange head. She woke up with the grace and dignity of a bear disturbed from hibernation. The Meister groaned dramatically, flailing her arms and sending the mountain of stuffed animals falling in an avalanche to the floor. She followed immediately afterward, landing in a nice, pillowy cushion of plushes.

" _Whyyyyyy?_ " she whined, sitting up and childishly rubbing her eyes with both fists. Sunny sent him a petulant glare that wouldn't even frighten a kitten.

Karasuba sighed again, rising to his feet and extending a hand to help her to her feet. "If you sleep now, you won't be able to sleep tonight," he informed her slowly, clearly explaining the situation to her half-asleep, muddled mind. "How about we get all of your stuffed animals to your room?" It wasn't the ideal way to spend the afternoon, but the both of them were tired, and he had learned quickly that Sunny got weird when she was tired.

For a moment, it appeared that Sunday was going to argue, but she thought better of it and grabbed one stuffed animal - a rabbit - to tote to her room. Clearly, in her half-awake state, she did not mind making Karasuba do most of the heavy lifting.

As the blue-black-haired boy waded through a sea of plushies and saw that his Meister had fallen back to sleep in the floor before her bedroom, he couldn't keep from sighing.

It was going to be a long, annoying night.

* * *

A moment in the life of...  
 **Aland** and _Mirielle_

 _"Hey, Ally, can I come in?"_

 **"It is three-thirty in the freaking morning, Mirielle. What the hell do you want?"**

 _"It's... kind of an important question. Can I sit down on the end of your bed?"_

 **"...As long as you stop calling me Ally, then sure. I guess."**

 _"Okay... um..."_

 **"Spit it out."**

 _"Doyouthinkdinosaursarereal?"_

 **"...What?"**

 _"Do. You. Think. Dinosaurs. Are. Real?"_

 **"I think they're extinct..."**

 _"No, I mean, like, do you think they ever existed in the first place, or that God is just playing tricks on us to see how we'll put the bones together?"_

 **"..."**

 _"Like some sort of puzzle, Ally. Maybe he's laughing at us when we put them together wrong."_

 **"Why would you even think that?"**

 _"I was looking at the therizinosaurus and I don't think God would be cruel enough to make something so... weird."_

 **"But he'd be cruel enough to play some huge joke on us?"**

 _"Well, duh. He has a sense of humor, Ally."_

 **"You believe in a god?"**

 _"Mhm. There's no reason for me not to."_

 **"...Whatever floats your boat."**

 _"You never answered my question. Do you believe in dinosaurs?"_

 **"Get out."**

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

 **An -** _I'm thinking of doing a dialogue snippet at the end of each chapter - do you guys like it? Do you hate it?_

 _Before I say anything else, thank you all for the amazing support you've shown me! I've lived off of the reviews for the past few days, so please keep that up. It's motivating me so much to write - you have no idea._

 _Anyway, please let me know what you think of the chapter! Let me know if I'm portraying your characters correctly, or if there are things you want changed. Oh, and I am ALWAYS open to talk plots!_

 _Oh! If you have sent in a character, and they did not make it as a main character, please shoot me a PM to let me know whether or not it's okay for me to use that character as a side character. It's a lot easier than me having to go through and PM you all individually - I've tried that, and it's time-consuming and confusing for me xD_

 _Next chapter should feature Hiro and Twain!_

 _Bonus points for those of you who can name the anime they were watching._

 _Please read, review, and enjoy! Pm me if you have questions c:_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_

 _(P.S. It's Pride month! Please keep in mind to be extra loving and supportive of all the people around you, and to accept people regardless of your differences. I feel like this should be a time where we celebrate the fact that we are human beings who all deserve love and respect.)_


	6. Chapter III

**([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 24th, 2017  
7:43am  
 _Twain Thaddeus Thorndyke_

* * *

"Do we _have_ to go to school today?" Hiro asked in his slightly-British-accented voice, barely hiding a yawn behind his hand. Twain hid a smile behind his own - the two of them had been partners for ten days now, and the Weapon had come to find that his Meister was quite the oddball. He was a good balance to Twain's more solid, kindhearted personality. Hiro was a walking contradiction - he pretended to hate school, but Twain knew that he really liked doing classwork. He would sleep in class, and remember whatever was said during the period. It just made no sense.

"But you like school," the Weapon pointed out patiently as they approached the top of the stairs that led up to the DWMA. He was a full nine inches taller than his little Meister, and therefore had to alter his stride and take things much slower to accommodate the smaller boy's shorter legs. "You're good at it, too - your grades in almost every class have been better than mine so far." Which was, admittedly, true. Twain was not prideful enough to deny it.

Hiro rolled his eyes and shrugged one thin shoulder. "I kinda like the resonance classes," he admitted, passing through the doors and into the massive DWMA. It didn't really make too much sense for the silver-headed boy to love those classes the way he did. While Twain and Hiro had, in fact, been one of the four pairs that resonated on their first day, but only just. It took a couple of tries, and it quickly became obvious that Hiro's soul was untrained. Almost none of the students had experience in resonating, but there was a big difference between a soul trained in resonance and a soul trained in general. Not that Twain's soul had helped the process - he was difficult to resonate with for someone so different than him. But once they'd been able to maintain a stable resonance, things had gone quite smoothly, and over time it was becoming easier. Pleasant, even, although they were both fairly tired from the effort afterward.

The blue-haired boy gave a soft chuckle. "The resonance classes are my favorite, too," he agreed, falling into step beside his Meister as they walked down the hall toward their first class. It was best to get there a little early, Twain had found, so that they could get good seats fairly near their friends. _Friends_ being the operative word - they were all just kind of acquaintances at this point, but the Weapon liked to think that at least a couple of them were on their way to some form of friendship.

The pair climbed up the proscenium-styled seating to their seats in the back, where Hiro liked to be so that he could snooze while the teacher prattled on about something or another. They were followed soon by Aria and Vanessa, who were usually a bit early, as well, due to Aria's more responsible nature. Twain got along well with the kindhearted girl; they usually talked before class started. Vanessa, on the other hand... he wasn't as big a fan of Vanessa. She was gruff and rude, and usually just sat in her seat with her jaw set and her arms crossed. The typical 'bad girl' stereotype, in Twain's opinion.

"Good morning, Twain. Hiro," Aria greeted sweetly, taking her seat in front of him.

He smiled in return. "Morning," he replied, though Hiro had his earbuds in and didn't hear the other Meister's greeting. The Weapon rolled his eyes and turned his attention back toward the front of the room, waiting for the other students and for the professor to arrive.

Sunday and Karasuba came in next. From what Twain had seen, they'd been good together. Karasuba rolled his eyes a lot, and they were both super awkward. Twain always tried his best to reach out to the two of them, but it was kind of difficult when you were as antisocial as Karasuba or as shy as Sunday. Still, they, too, seemed to get along fairly well as a pair - Twain had seen them resonate before, and they seemed to have an easier time than most.

The Weapon and Meister pair made their way up to their own seats, with Sunday scooting over to sit beside Aria, and Karasuba beside his Meister. The shy girl nervously started to chatter with the reclusive Weapon, her stuttered words and blunt questions reminding him a bit of his own Meister. Hiro didn't understand much about the world of Weapons, Meisters, souls, and Kishins, and tended to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions.

 _"Can you feel your bones crunch when you transform?"_

 _"Does your soul change at all?"_

 _"Do you get hungry as a spear?"_

 _"Do you ever just crave souls to eat?"_

 _"What if you have to pee in your Weapon form?"_

Fortunately for the curious Meister, his Weapon was patient and understood the curiosity itself, so he tried his best to accurately answer any and all questions that he was asked. It was only natural for him to want to know, since he was still relatively new to their world. Hell, Twain himself had only been aware of his own Weapon form for three years, though he'd spent a long time beforehand training his soul, because it was admittedly weaker than the average. Of course, he was much better now - he was even at the DWMA and had his own Meister and a future laid out before him. He could certainly handle some awkward questions.

It was much better than dealing with...

"Why the hell are you _still_ crying over a freaking squirrel?!" snarled a pissed-off Aland as he stormed into the classroom ahead of his Meister, who seemed as brokenhearted as anyone Twain had ever seen.

"We- we could-coulda saved it!" she blubbered, nose running as she made a futile attempt at wiping the tears off of her cheeks. "We c-coulda done CPR!"

The red-haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It got smashed by a car, Mir - it was a pancake! How the f-ck do you expect me to give a pancake CPR?!"

"You could've _tried,_ instead of just dragging me away!" she burst out, anger coloring her cheeks as she whipped around to face her Weapon.

Twain smirked as he watched the pair - he was thankful that he and his partner had a much more calm, easygoing relationship. There were few - if any - yelling matches between the pair, unlike Mirielle and Aland. Those two seemed to be fighting twenty-four-seven, over things as trivial as roadkill or as serious as Aland wanting to take over the world. It made Twain appreciate Hiro's awkward, weird, personal questions.

Fortunately, before their argument could get too heated, Professor Hennessey stepped through the doors. He taught this class without his husband, although they did co-teach quite a few of the classes at the DWMA. They were both quite good teachers, and although Professor Hennessey was (surprisingly) the more lenient of the two, he didn't tolerate overly-loud or rude behavior.

"Alright, alright. To your seats," he urged, heading over to the quarreling teenagers and herding them up toward Hiro and Twain. Aland took his normal seat up beside Twain's Meister, while Mirielle pointedly harrumphed and sat on the other side of Twain himself.

The crimson-headed Weapon leaned forward and made eye-contact with Twain. "Hey, you wanna trade Meisters?" he asked, voice gruff and lowered so that the professor couldn't hear him. Before the other Weapon had a chance to reply, however, Mirielle had taken a pencil from her bag - as a weapon - and flung it at Aland's face, where it smacked flat between his eyes.

Twain gave a good-natured smirk and shrug of his shoulders. "I think I'm good with mine, thanks," he replied, deftly avoiding the death glare that Aland was shooting at Mirielle.

Meanwhile, Hiro had already fallen asleep with his head resting on a manga novel.

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 24th, 2017  
12:03pm  
 _Hiro Frost Kudo_

* * *

"Hey, Hiro, I got a question for you."

It was rare that Twain would be the one asking his Meister a question that needed a prelude like that, but Hiro knew that he asked a lot of... personal things, so he wasn't going to deny his partner the freedom to do so in return. "Yeah?" he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich and looking at the blue-haired boy from across the lunch table. "Go for it." It was only fair, after all.

The Weapon leaned his elbows on the table. He seemed to be debating whether or not to ask at all, because his eyebrows knitted together. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged, then put on a smile and met his partner's eyes again. "What is it that you're always listening to?" he asked, pointing to the earbud that was sitting in Hiro's right ear. He had the left one out so that he could hear what was going on around him - what with there being so many Weapons around, and all. It made him a little nervous.

"Hatsune Miku," he replied easily, taking the bud he wasn't using and leaning forward so that Twain could take it, if he so wished. The Weapon complied, resting his chin on his elbows so that he wasn't tugging his little Meister's head upward. The silver-haired boy switched the song over to World Is Mine, and the odd - but pleasant - sounds of the Vocaloid began to pour out of the tiny speakers and into their ears.

Twain tipped his head and caught sight of the video on the screen of Hiro's phone, and his reddish eyes lit up. "Hey, you have that wig!" he stated brightly, and Hiro felt his cheeks burn.

" _Shh_!" he hushed, leaning forward. "How did you know about that?!"

The blue-haired boy's lips curled up a little on the corners. "Well, I was looking for you the other night, and your door was cracked open, so I was about to walk in. But then I saw that you were wearing that wig, and I figured you probably didn't want to be seen like that, so I left you alone." There was barely-disguised laughter in his tone, but it likely wasn't malignant. Twain was one of the nicest people that Hiro had ever met, and he didn't think he would be the type to pick on his own Meister.

"It's creepy that you just peeked in and left," the Kudo boy muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. Though, admittedly, there was nothing wrong with what Twain had done. "You could've said something."

"But you would've been embarrassed if I'd done that," Twain reasoned, picking up a chip off of Hiro's plate and popping it into his mouth.

The Meister sighed deeply and took another bite of his sandwich. "Kind of like I am now?" he questioned, well aware that his face was still tomato-red in color.

"No reason to be embarrassed," the Weapon told him with a shrug. "I'm the only one who knows, and I'm not gonna judge you for it. You like what you like, right?"

Hiro couldn't remember the last time he'd heard anyone say that to him. Mostly, people were just freaked out, or teased him because of the things he liked. Music, television shows, reading material, hobbies... the list went on and on. The blush faded from his cheeks, and he allowed himself to relax at the genuine sincerity coming from his Weapon partner. His wavelength must have betrayed whatever inner turmoil he was trying to conceal, because he felt Twain's own soul reach out a bit in an attempt to calm him down.

"You alright?" Twain asked, blue eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Did I say something wrong?"

The silver-headed Meister cleared his throat and shook his head, a tiny smile finding its way onto his lips. "No," he denied, returning to his food. "You said something right."

* * *

A moment in the day of...  
 **Karasuba** and _Sunday_

 **"Sunday, we need to talk."**

 _"Um... about what...?"_

 **"About your addiction."**

 _"...My addiction?"_

 **"Yes. It seems that you are highly addicted to..."**

 _"NO! Put Mr. Froggy down!"_

 **"STUFFED ANIMALS!"**

 _"Nooooo! I'm not, I swear!"_

 **"Then why did you pick yet another one up on your way home from school today?!"**

 _"It was only two dollars at a yard sale! I had to get it! I didn't have a porcupine yet!"_

 **"I've tripped over at least ten porcupine plushies this week!"**

 _"Those are hedgehogs!"_

 **"My point is that you have a problem."**

 _"I do not! Leave 'em alone!"_

 **"Ow! Why did you hit me with the remote?!"**

 _"I'm sorry! I hit people when I get embarrassed..."_

 **-dramatic sigh-**

 _..._

 **...**

 _-stomach growls-_

 **"Of course you're hungry..." -.-'**

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

 **An-** _I had a huge amount of writer's block with this chapter, and I have no idea why :s It kind of sucks, in my opinion, but I am trying to vary the entrance chapters a little and put some time skips in here and there so that the story is diverse and moves at a fairly quick pace. On the upside, there's just one entrance chapter left, and then we can get onto the real story! :3_

 _Again, the support I have received has been phenomenal, and it's really inspired me to write more of the story - thank you all so much. It means more to me than you could ever understand. I love these characters, and I have a ton of muse for this story, but most of all, it's because of you guys. Without your submissions, reviews, encouragements, critiques, and help, I wouldn't be so excited to write. In fact, there probably wouldn't even be a story right now at all, so this is all happening because of you guys. I want you to keep that in mind that, when every chapter is posted, it's all because of you - so thank you for that._

 _I'm branching out a lot in my writing - I've grown up in a conservative family (which is not necessarily a bad thing), but I haven't really written characters of different sexualities (Vanessa is actually lesbian, and Hennessey and McNamara are married), and I haven't included a lot of bad words or sexual themes. Though there won't be too much of the last thing, I do expect a couple of the pairings in this story to be quite intimate with one another, so there's that. If you do not want your character involved in anything suggestive, please let me know!_

 _Anyway, thank you for the reviews, encouragements, and all of your help so far. I really hope that, together, we can really make this story happen. I already have the ending planned - it's just getting there that's gotta happen first!_

 _Question of the Day (since I was listening to a lot of Soul Eater music while writing):  
What was your favorite Soul Eater opening or ending? I personally adored ending 3 and repeat opening 2, although I believe all of them were good._

 _Aria and Vanessa are next!_

 _Have a wonderful week!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	7. Chapter IV

**([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 26th, 2017  
5:45pm  
 _Aria Cook_

* * *

Aria knew that Vanessa - or Vega, as she liked to be called - had not expected a Meister who was in charge of taking care of seven children under the age of thirteen. Her Weapon had been one of the most gruff and intimidating people that Aria had met in a while, and she'd been concerned about how the tall girl and the kids would interact together. But, surprisingly, though Vega had been so standoffish and aloof with Aria herself - even after they'd performed a successful resonation - she was almost... kind to the children. Aria had been a bit hesitant to introduce them all at first, and even more so to let Vega stay with them full-time. But, after a couple of days spent with the Weapon and the kids, she decided that there was no danger to have the Weapon around her siblings.

At the moment, the Meister was preparing dinner for everyone, and Vega was corralling children in the living room to prevent them from bothering their older sister while she slaved away over the hot oven. She could hear the giant girl's footsteps as she stomped after kids, and she could hear the fake annoyance in her voice when she scolded them. The eldest twins - Janette and Jarvis - had taken to playing pranks on the Weapon, and as much as she bitched and spewed death threats to them when a bucket of water fell from the doorframe, or when her food was particularly spicy, or salt was put in her coffee, it was obvious that she didn't mean anything by it. Ten-year-old Clint still didn't particularly acknowledge Vega's presence in the household, and nine-year-old Bonnie was determined to find out every detail about the Weapon's life, but Terence - the eight-year-old, seemed not to mind her. The youngest twins, who were both five, absolutely adored her. Delilah and Dennis both would curl up in Vanessa's lap at every opportunity, whether the girl wanted it or not.

Warmth flooded Aria's chest. It was a testament to Vanessa's character that, instead of snarling and scaring them off, she just let them sit there while she studied or watched television. It reaffirmed the Meister's assumption that she had chosen a good partner, even if the Weapon hadn't exactly warmed up to her just yet. Perhaps Vega was just one of those people that it took longer to show her true colors. At least she wasn't completely ignoring Aria anymore, as she had in the beginning.

"Smells good in here," came a gruff voice. Vega stepped through the doors of the kitchen, Delilah hanging from one shoulder and Dennis clutching her hand possessively. Janette was hanging from her neck, and there was confetti in her hair - likely from a prank that the older twins had played on her. "Will dinner be done soon?" Her tone was dismissive and flippant, as if she really couldn't care less.

Aria offered her a smile. "It's pretty much done, if you want to bring them all in here and sit at the table," she replied, and the other four kids immediately sprinted into the room and took their respected seats at the table. Aria picked up the plates and put the spaghetti in a serving bowl, and chaos ensued as the children started to pile pasta on their plates with no restraint or remorse. Marinara sauce flew through the air, and at one point the serving spoon flipped out of the bowl, but was prevented from hitting the floor by Vega, who basically turned upside-down from the chair to catch it.

Somewhere amidst the spaghetti bloodbath, Vega and Aria both managed to get their own plates and retreat to the living room, mostly unscathed. The Meister could see bits of red sauce in the white streaks that cut through the black of Vega's hair, but there was a surprising lack of marinara on her own person. The short girl felt a bit of pride at her achievement, and flopped down on the couch with an exhausted sigh.

Vanessa sat down at the recliner and leaned back, holding her spaghetti in one hand. "Holy hell," she breathed, eyebrows raised and eyes drooped half-mast.

"Tell me about it," Aria laughed, then looked down with a surprised gasp. "Oh crap. I forgot my fork."

"Shit," Vega remarked, sounding detached and uncaring, although she was already putting her plate down on the coffee table so that she could get up. "I'll go get one for you. Just a sec." And then the Weapon was up and heading back into the fray - though it had calmed down quite a bit in the few seconds that the two partners had been out of the room. Most likely, the kids were busy stuffing their faces with pasta.

It took about two seconds for Vanessa to shout out a curse, and the kids all burst into either shocked gasps or bubbling laughter. A moment later, the Weapon reentered the living room, a meatball stuck to the side of her face and a fork held in her right fist. She stomped over to hand it to her Meister, and then sat back down in the recliner without removing the food from her cheek.

"My hero," Aria jested lightly, twisting the fork in the noodles. "Thank you, Vega." She was honestly a bit surprised that the other girl had gone back into the kitchen to do something for her - even if it was something as menial as retrieving a forgotten fork. It was kind, and appreciated, and kind of out-of-character, but certainly an improvement from how the brutish girl usually behaved. Aria had been beginning to think that, perhaps, the Weapon did not like her whatsoever. Maybe things were going to start looking up for the two of them.

The Weapon cleared her throat and took a bite of spaghetti. She looked entirely disinterested. "Don't mention it," she muttered, before taking another bite of the food. A very, very tiny smile crossed her lips. "This is really delicious."

"My own special recipe," the Meister told her with a grin, pleased that she'd been able to bring a smile from her usually emotionless partner. "I call it 'Prego.'"

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 26th, 2017  
9:30pm  
 _Vanessa Ens Gertrude Amula_

* * *

The kids were being put to bed, and the kitchen was a spaghetti-encrusted, abandoned warzone. Vega took it upon herself to start on clean-up duty, because Aria was on kid-clean-up-and-put-to-bed duty, and that seemed like it would be a much more difficult job, so the Weapon had decided to tackle the kitchen instead. But it seemed like she was really in for it, because she had no idea how a meatball could even get stuck on the ceiling, or how noodles managed to end up tangled around the hanging light fixtures.

Vanessa did not know if she trusted - or even _liked_ \- her Meister, but what she _did_ know was that they were _partners,_ and Aria was severely overworked. The Weapon had agreed to be with the Meister, and she was going to keep up her end of the partnership, whether she liked the girl or not. Besides, it was nice to have the kids around. It was kind of insane - like she had gone straight from a foster home, and the second she walked into the DWMA she'd had a family. A little sappy, but true. Most of the kids had been alright with her being around, and after Aria found out she wasn't a serial killer, she'd accepted her into the house, as well.

She smiled just a bit as she cleaned the cheaply-tiled floors, recalling when she and Aria had resonated for the first time. Aria's soul had been so soft and gentle, and though Vega's soul had made it extremely difficult for her, she still managed to sooth the stiffer soul with catlike purring and chocolaty tastes and smells. The sounds of rain and thunderstorms drowned out the water-faucet-dripping of Vega's own soul, but it was in a nice way. It felt like sitting inside on a rainy day, with cookies in the oven and a cat in your lap. Perfect tranquility and the understanding that everything in the world was good.

"You're cleaning the kitchen?"

Her Meister's voice broke her out of her reverie, and she could feel the purple soul extending out for some sort of connection. Her own soul responded a bit, chipping away at those walls she'd so dogmatically defended for so long. She supposed Aria probably had that effect on most people; not just her. The Meister was just so... kind and good and pure, and Vega... wasn't.

"Mm," she replied, straightening up so that she was standing her full eleven inches taller than her Meister. "I figured you were probably busy, so..." She shrugged, gesturing at the half-tidied kitchen around them. "Yeah."

Aria smiled gently and looked around, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows. "Would help be unwelcome?" she asked, catlike amber eyes drifting up to meet the gray of her Weapon's. She seemed to be genuinely asking permission to help clean, as she did with most things that involved interacting with Vega. Perhaps the Weapon really should ease up on her standoffishness - this was getting a bit ridiculous.

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she offered a hesitant smile. "Knock yourself out," she said, by way of invitation, and extended a hand out to offer her Meister a sponge.

And damn it if Aria didn't look overjoyed to not be denied the opportunity to clean with her partner.

* * *

A moment in the day of...  
 **Twain** and _Hiro_

 **"We're so lost."**

 _"We are so not lost."_

 **"Hiro, we've been to this same bridge four times in the past thirty minutes."**

 _"Your point?"_

 **"We're lost."**

 _"Maybe all the bridges in this city just look alike."_

 **"I... seriously doubt that."**

 _"Look, how about we use Google maps?"_

 **"I forgot my phone at home."**

 _"My phone's dead."_

 **-sigh-**

 _"Hey, wait, isn't that the apartment building?!"_

 **"Oh, thank God."**

-at the door-

 _"Hey... why isn't it opening?"_

 **-groans-**

 _"What?"_

 **"You forgot the keys inside, didn't you?"**

 _"...I might have..."_

 **-sigh- "I'll go climb in through the window."**

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

 **An -** _Introduction chapters = done! It's been a while since I've introduced every main character in a SYOC. I usually quit by this point - my mental health isn't always very... balanced, I guess? It's just been a very long time since I've felt like writing like this, and again, I think a big part of it is you guys. You've been supportive and sweet and have been answering questions in a timely manner, and it's just been such a wonderful experience so far. Another part is probably that I'm just allowing myself complete creative freedom, regardless of what people in my life might think. I have no idea why I think they'll even care at all, because they don't read any of this stuff, but for some reason my anxiety likes to go "hey but what if...?"_

 _It sucks, guys. It sucks a lot._

 _Anywho, Vanessa and Aria. Two of my faves. Both are totally wife material, if you ask me. I'm just gonna unapologetically say, up front, that I'm kind of looking at this one with rose-colored ship goggles. Just ignore me, please x.x I'm trash and I know it. Also, don't take it for canon, guys! It's just because they're kind of like a married couple with all these kids, and I can't help it right now, okay? Don't judge me and I won't judge you. -.-'_

 _But that leads well into my question of the day!_

 _Do you guys have any ships from Soul Eater? AnonChan1 asked me this last chapter, in the reviews, and I thought it was an excellent question! Shipping is my favorite pastime, and Soul and Maka are actually my OTP. I also hardcore ship Tsubaki and Black*Star, but that's about it for my Soul Eater ships. For some reason, I couldn't find it in my heart to ship Kid with anyone, and I wasn't attached enough to any of the side characters to ship them. Stein and Marie was weird. Blair and Spirit was weird._

 _Yeah. Anyway._

 _Next chapter should have a bit of action, so look forward to that!_

 _Thank you again for your continued support - it means so much to me, and it's really helping me to write these chapters (even though this one's a bit shorter than most of the other ones, because I'm getting just a bit stumped on the domesticity of these chapters so far xD I need some chaos and strife and crap going on so that I can thrive.)_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	8. Chapter V

**([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 29th, 2017  
4:45pm  
 _Mirielle Noor_

It was Friday, after school, and Mirielle was busy working on a truck for some extra money. She had it propped up on a jack that she'd brought from home, and she had her tools spread haphazardly around her from where she lay underneath the vehicle. The truck's owner had said something about one of the vent lines or something messing up, and it was quite obvious that the man had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Rather than the vent line being screwed up, it was the external fuel line; gasoline was dripping sluggishly from the pipe onto the ground below.

Initially, the girl had tried to do some patchwork with duct tape - she was a firm believer in the idea that it could fix almost anything - but it had failed to do the job correctly. In fact, it just ended up getting fuel on her sweater. The project had been, essentially, a waste of an hour of time.

"Hey, Mir," Aland called, peeking underneath the truck to see if she was still working. He looked entirely fed up with waiting. "You almost done? Twain keeps texting you to see if we're still up for sparring back at the DWMA in half an hour." He waved her phone where she could see the screen.

Mirielle nodded, breathing a bit heavy from the stiflingly hot, still air under the vehicle. "Yeah - text him back for me, would you? Tell him we'll be there. I'm done with the truck, anyway." She didn't have a password set on her phone, so pretty much anyone was welcome to get on it, if they wanted.

Her partner gave a short grunt in response, and the girl tried one last time to duct tape the leaky line shut while he wrote out the text. This time, the tactic kind of worked - it stayed sealed, and Mir decided that it would likely make an effective patch, until the man could purchase a new line for her to put in. She sure as hell wasn't going to go to the store for him to buy the new line - that would just be money out of what she was being paid.

She began pushing her tools back out from under the truck, and started an awkward crab-crawl out, herself. The Meister poked one foot out into freedom and gave it a kick. "Help!" she called dramatically, peeking out to see if her Weapon would come to her rescue. "I'm stuck!"

Help came rather quickly, in the form of a large hand snagging her ankle and yanking her roughly from beneath the vehicle. The swift, half-unexpected movement elicited a squeal and a giggle from the girl. Aland held her with one hand, at arm's length from his body. He looked entirely unamused, his gray eyes half-shut as he inspected her. "Can we leave yet?" he asked, one eyebrow arching in question.

"Just one more minute; I have to tell the guy what's wrong with the truck," she replied, and he proceeded to drop her unceremoniously to the ground. It didn't hurt, necessarily, but it was onto concrete, and she rolled to her feet with about as much grace as a crippled elephant. She sent a halfhearted glare toward the crimson-haired boy. "Dick."

He offered her a pointy, shark-toothed smirk, and tossed his head toward the café to his right. "Truck dude's in there," he told her, and she hurried off into the little shop.

It was easy to find the man - Mr. Johnson was a short, fat individual. His relative shape was that of a circle, and it was easy to see why. In the café, he had a half-empty box of a dozen donuts set out in front of him. In one hand, he held a liter of Coca-Cola, and in the other, he held a massive powdered-sugar donut. His lips were coated in the sugar, and he waved the donut at her as she entered.

"Hey, Mr. Johnson!" she greeted, heading over to the table and resting her palms flat on top. "I found out what was wrong with your truck - it wasn't the vent line, but the external fuel line that was damaged. I fixed it temporarily, but you'll have to go buy the replacement pipe for it before I can fix it completely."

The man's unkempt, messy eyebrows furrowed up in frustration and confusion. "Why can't you go buy the pipe? I'm paying you to work on my truck, aren't I?"

"Exactly. You're paying me to work on your truck, not buy the materials," she tried to explain, hoping that he'd be able to understand. "If I were to go pay for the line out-of-pocket, then I'd be spending more than you're paying me. These lines cost around one hundred and twenty dollars, and since you're only paying me eighty bucks to fix it, I'd be spending forty of my own to buy the line. It'd be like me paying you so that I could fix your truck."

Johnson narrowed his eyes, looking indignant. "If I have to go through the trouble of going to the store and finding the damn thing, why wouldn't I just fix the truck myself?" he snapped.

 _Probably because there's no possible way you'll be able to fit under your truck._ The words ran through her mind, but remained unsaid. Instead, the girl just offered him a smile. "You can do that," she told him patiently, folding her hands behind her back. "Does this mean I'm fired?" They could have really used the money, but she didn't think it would be too much of a loss. It wasn't like she'd lost much on the deal, anyway.

"Hell, yes, it does!" the plump man growled, returning to his donuts. He seemed to really believe that he'd been wronged, somehow.

She figured he'd say something like that. She sighed a bit through her nose, but remained smiling regardless. "Have a nice day!" she called over her shoulder, and proceeded to exit the café and return to her waiting Weapon. She put a little spring in her step, knowing that he was bound to be upset, but determined to counterbalance the negative energy.

Aland raised one brow at her. "How'd it go?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Mir winced a bit. "Er, well, he decided to go with a different mechanic," she informed him. "Apparently, he'd rather do it himself than pay me."

His eyes rolled dramatically, and he scoffed as he looked down at her. "And you didn't take the money from him by force?" he demanded, glancing over into the café, where Mr. Johnson was still stuffing his face with powdered donuts.

"Of course not!" she responded, though she had come to expect this type of behavior from the boy. He wasn't kidding when he called himself 'evil.' "Stealing from people is wrong - even if it's from people who deserve it." She puffed out her chest, trying to appear taller. "Do not go back in there and take money from him." She found that, if she didn't explicitly tell him _not_ to do something, he was probably going to do it. Only a couple of days prior, Aland had beaten up some poor kid who had bumped into them and hadn't apologized. It had almost happened again the next day, but thanks to Mirielle's swift "NO!" the next guy was spared.

It was odd, but seemed to be effective. She'd have to test it out more.

Aland seemed particularly disappointed and exasperated by her good, upstanding citizenship, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he just walked over to grab the car jack, knowing that she couldn't carry it herself. "Let's go; we're late for our sparring match." With that, he turned and headed off toward the DWMA without waiting for his Meister, leaving Mirielle to scramble and gather all the tools into her toolbox and sprint after him.

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 29th, 2017  
5:53pm  
 _Aland Grimoire_

* * *

Though every internal instinct was telling him to go back and steal eighty bucks - and then some - from that man with the truck, his one external instinct was telling him not to. At first, he'd claimed Mirielle as an _enemy,_ and had been adamant about arguing back with her high-and-mighty attempts at goodness. He'd figured she was like most other do-gooders, with all the talk and none of the walk. He'd seen many more so-called 'heroes' be too indecisive, or be too meek, or boast about a desire for goodness that they actually lacked. However, it quickly became very obvious that Mirielle was cut from a much different cloth than those people.

When she decided to do something, it was basically set in stone. She was absolutely unafraid of anything, and bucked back at him no matter what - even if he was quite a bit bigger and scarier than her, and could pick her up by the ankle with no problems whatsoever. She was stubborn, steadfast, weird, and completely freaking annoying... but he still didn't _hate_ her.

He didn't _like_ her, either, though. She just had a lot of qualities he valued in a person, regardless of the fact that her goals and his goals directly conflicted with one another. They fought all the time, but he liked to think that they were developing a healthy respect for each other. He certainly didn't mind listening to her every now and again - though he'd never tell her that.

It was just that he no longer had the inclination to steal from the truck man anymore.

"Come on, Ally! Keep up with me!" she urged as they ran down the sidewalk. Though he'd had a bit of a headstart, it seemed that his Meister was intent on running to the DWMA. It made sense, considering the fact that they were quite a bit late. So, the Weapon followed along with her at a jog, his added six and a half inches of height allowing him to keep up with relative ease.

They made it to the school in record time, both of them out of breath and sweating. It was _hot_ outside, but he probably should've expected that in Arizona.

Hiro and Twain were waiting for the two of them at the top of the massive stairway leading up to the front door. Hiro had his headphones in and barely registered their presence, and Twain offered them a soft smile. "Hey," he greeted, as though they hadn't just kept the two of them waiting for half an hour. "Where've you guys been?"

"Mirielle was working on a truck, so it's her fault we're late," Aland deadpanned, and had to duck to avoid getting hit by a screwdriver that his Meister promptly flung at his head. The metal thing bounced down the stairs and off into the bushes at the side. The girl quickly followed it, seeming to realize her mistake of throwing one of her favorite tools, and hopped into the bushes to find it.

Hiro took one of his earbuds out and looked over at Aland. "We're not training today."

The Weapon furrowed his eyebrows, irritation beginning to build up in his chest. "So we came all this way for nothing?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"No, no," Twain corrected, a smile on his lips - per the norm. "Actually, Lord Death said he wanted us to wait for you here. He wants to talk to us."

"He does?" Mirielle asked, out of breath as she approached, screwdriver in hand. Her hazel eyes were round and excited, in spite of the fact she was panting and sweating. "Maybe he has something cool for us to do!" she suggested, placing the screwdriver back in the toolbox. "Like a mission or something."

Hiro looked up, apparently a bit anxious. "Are-are we ready for that?" he asked, trying - and failing - to keep his voice level and even.

Twain put his hand on his Meister's shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. "I'm sure we're ready for whatever Lord Death thinks we're ready for," he told him, and Mirielle nodded in agreement.

"Yeah! He can see your soul, and he wouldn't send you anywhere you weren't ready for," she assured, giving an excited hop and sprinting into the building, abandoning all three of her friends and her toolbox. "Let's go!"

* * *

Aland wasn't a fan of Lord Death. The shinigami wasn't hands-on enough for his preference. He didn't do much, aside from stay in this weird room with giant guillotines and weird crosslike things on the ground. It was also quite clear that, for someone who did next to nothing on a daily basis, he was comfy and cozy with bossing his students around, and it was annoying the crap out of Aland.

"H. H. Holmes?" Mirielle was asking, simultaneously sending out calming soul wavelengths toward her partner to counteract his spiky, angry ones. It was working fairly well - each soothing wavelength met his spikes as they reached out, like gentle hands swatting them away.

Lord Death raised one, massive hand. "Yes. I would like you four to travel to Chicago, Illinois and take out the Kishin egg H. H. Holmes - he is a serial killer who has claimed many human victims over the years, and he must be stopped." He bounced a bit, nodding his head. "But it shouldn't be difficult for the four of you, as long as you work together. It should be a simple first mission."

"Wait, is that all the information you have?" Hiro asked, trying to appear unconcerned, though it was clear he was nervous. "You don't have anything more to tell us?"

The shinigami tilted his head. "Well, I like for students to learn on the job, really. Besides, I haven't ever met the guy, either, so I'm not much of an expert on him. It's your mission and not mine, after all." The comment set Aland's blood to boiling, and he clenched his fists. He felt a slight pressure on his side, and looked down to find his Meister had leaned her weight against his shoulder. She glanced up at him with a small smile, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes, but saw no reason to move away.

"We'd be happy to stop this Holmes guy," Twain told the reaper, wearing his signature smile. "Won't we, guys?"

Mirielle jumped and pumped a fist in the air, removing herself from her Weapon's side. "Yeah!" she cheered, and Hiro shifted uncomfortably behind them.

"Sure... I guess," he agreed. Then, Twain, Hiro, and Mirielle all looked over at Aland, waiting for his agreement.

He sighed deeply, not overly enthusiastic about listening to the reaper, but not willing to be the only one who said no. After all, there was no way the three others would be able to fight a monster on their own. Not to mention it would be completely unfair to make his Meister go off on a mission without a Weapon. He was more loyal than that, in spite of what anyone else might think.

"Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

A day in the life of...  
 **Vega** and _Aria_

 **"Aria!"**

 _"Yes?"_

 **"Your kids are being brats!"**

 _"You're clearly laughing, so they can't be that bad!"_

 **"Janette and Jarvis put itching powder in my clothes!"**

 _"Why would they do that?"_

 **"Janette says it's because I was a bitch to you the other day!"**

 _"Did she use that kind of language?"_

 **"No, that was me."**

 _"Good, because I would've had to wash her mouth with soap."_

 **"Hey! Aren't you going to do something about this?"**

 _"Well..."_

 **"Well?!"**

 _"You were kind of a bitch the other day."_

 **-.-**

* * *

 **An -** _Hey, guys! I'm sorry for being inactive, but it's been a... long, long week. My niece is with us, and it was Father's day on Sunday, and my mom's birthday was yesterday, and there was quite a bit of drama, and yeah. I'm very sorry this chapter is a little late, and that I lied and the action is going to be in the next chapter._

 _Thank you so much for your support!_

 _Question of the day: What do you want to see happen in this story?_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	9. Chapter VI

**([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 30th, 2017  
2:26am  
 _Hiro Frost Kudo_

* * *

If he were being honest with himself, he really did not want to be there, and he could tell he was not the only one who felt that way. Aland appeared to be downright miserable - he had since before they even boarded the flight, when Mirielle had been insisting her shitty 1980 Ford Pinto could drive the four of them all of the way to Chicago. The car hadn't even started, and the Meister and her Weapon had launched into a shouting match before Twain arrived with four plane tickets and saved the day. Although, Hiro had to admit that even the plane ride had been hellish. Again, mainly because Mirielle had been overly-excited and thrilled to be on an airplane for the first time ever. Having grown up in Britain himself, Hiro was fairly used to the contraptions, and he saw nothing too interesting about the short flight from Nevada to Illinois. But she'd been gushing about how cool it was to be up in the air, and how excited she was to be on a mission, and it had been a nightmare.

At least Twain and Aland were quiet, and Mirielle eventually did fall asleep after about two hours of chatter and exuberance. She'd dropped her head onto her Weapon's shoulder, and he'd let out a longsuffering sigh before attempting to catch some sleep, himself. Twain, being his curious self, had brought along newspaper articles and even a book on H. H. Holmes to read during the flight. Which had left Hiro to wallow in his own fears and anxieties about the mission itself, which had been absolutely terrible. He'd come up with at least five hundred different ways for the Kishin egg to destroy the four of them and leave no remains.

Eventually, the plane had landed, and they'd been freed from their metal prison at about one thirty in the morning. They'd split up afterward, looking for the monster's den. As Twain had explained, Holmes liked to take his victims into a sort of lair and torture them before he killed them and ate their soul, and they needed to find exactly where that place was. Naturally, Twain and Hiro had taken off in one direction, and Aland and Mirielle in another. The Kudo had thought it was a bad idea to split apart like that, because when that happened in movies, someone always died. That thought send spikes of anxiety through his soul, and he didn't think that Twain had felt it through their connection.

Until, of course, Twain's blue soul intertwined with his own, attempting to soothe and calm him. "You alright?" the other boy asked, looking down at his Meister with a worried frown. It struck Hiro that he'd chosen a particularly kind Weapon, and though he was embarrassed to be caught mentally freaking out, he was glad that Twain had noticed and wanted to help him through it.

"Oh... uh, I guess I'm a little nervous," the Meister admitted, because Twain already knew. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets as a gust of wind buffeted the both of them, and offered his Weapon a smile, shrugging his shoulders. "Is it obvious?"

Twain smirked and shook his head. "Only to me," he assured, and the pressure of his soul on Hiro's felt like a hug. It was reassuring, to say the least. Hiro didn't know much about this side of the world - the side with monsters and Weapons and Meisters and Kishins and souls. It scared him, and he was grateful that Twain wasn't teasing him for it. But then, his friend hadn't even teased the shorter boy when he had caught him singing in his bedroom, decked out in a full Hatsune Miku cosplay. Therefore, Hiro was fairly certain that there truly was _nothing_ that Twain would bully him for.

It was a comforting thought.

They walked along in silence for a several minutes, turning down a few unexplored alleys. Hiro didn't have a controllable level of soul perception, so they were mainly working on sight. He hoped Mirielle and Aland were having better luck - they were supposed to call or text whenever they found the place, but Hiro's phone hadn't rang or vibrated yet. But, then again, there could have been tons of reasons for that. Maybe their phones had died simultaneously. Maybe Mirielle had broken her phone. Maybe they were both being eaten by the Kishin egg.

That last one would be particularly bad.

Fortunately, it was most likely that they just had not found the place yet. Holmes was supposed to have been very elusive.

A sudden chill filled the air as they walked, alongside a pressure that found its way into Hiro's very core. Even Twain's steadfast soul gave a slight tremble, and the young Meister couldn't imagine what his own was doing. His mouth had gone dry, he'd broken out into a cold sweat, and fog began to wind across the ground and around his ankles.

Then, the world dropped from under his feet.

* * *

It was unclear how much time had passed from the moment he fell to when he opened his eyes back up. His awareness came back gradually. The first thing he knew was _cold._ The temperature was at least twenty degrees cooler than it had been when it dropped outside, and suddenly his black-and-yellow jacket didn't seem nearly adequate enough. The second thing he was aware of was the _smell._ It was the stench of rotting corpses - of things that had been dead for weeks and weeks on end.

Then, his consciousness snapped back all at once, and he understood that he was completely alone, in a dark room, in H. H. Holmes' den. Weaponless, defenseless, and terrified. He automatically reached for his cell phone, and relief overcame him when he found that it was unscathed and even turned on. Then, that same relief rushed out of him again when he saw that there was no service. He supposed he should have expected that - it wasn't as though Holmes would need a cell phone, after all.

He reached his soul out, seeking for Twain's to respond, but it became apparent that that was certainly not going to work, either.

The Meister rose to his feet and took a deep, steadying breath, before heading over to find his way out of the room. Using his phone to illuminate his surroundings, he found that the door was already propped open, and he pushed it the rest of the way only to realize that the thing that had been keeping it from falling closed was a rotting corpse. Nausea swelled in his gut, and he stepped over the decaying woman and into the hallway. There was a nice carpet rolled out over the hardwood, but it squelched uncomfortably underfoot when he stood on it.

He didn't look down to see what it was wet with. He could probably hazard a guess, anyway.

The halls were mazelike, and they all looked the same, no matter how far he walked. The silence that surrounded him was broken only by the sound of his own footsteps and the occasional whisper or murmur in the dark. The disembodied sounds were even more unsettling than the silence, because no matter how hard he looked, he could not find the source of them.

"You know, if I were a serial killer, I think this would be a good way to do it."

Hiro spun around, eyes blown open wide at the unexpected, completely casual tone that came from right behind him. Aland stood, looking as comfortable as he always did. He certainly didn't look like a person who was traversing the lair of a Kishin egg. He looked as calm as he would be if he was simply going to the store for milk.

The small Meister blew out a sigh of relief and shook his head. "Have you seen Mirielle or Twain around?" he asked, brows rising hopefully.

Aland's gray eyes flicked around the hallway before landing back on Hiro. "If I had, I wouldn't be following you around, now would I?" he queried in return, raising his chin in the direction they were heading. "I have the feeling we should probably find them if we want to have any chance of beating this guy."

"Aren't you worried about your Meister?" Hiro asked. He was quite concerned for his Weapon's wellbeing, but Aland didn't look at all perturbed.

One shoulder shrugged in response. "Not really," he dismissed. "She can probably annoy this Holmes guy to death without me."

Hiro didn't think that it was time for jokes like that, but he made no comment on it. Instead, he just turned back in the direction he'd been heading, and started walking again. Aland followed behind him, and while Hiro actually enjoyed the Weapon's company on any normal day, it was disconcerting to know that he was enjoying their little trip into hell.

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 30th, 2017  
? am  
 _Twain Thaddeus Thorndyke_

* * *

It felt like he'd been walking for days through these long, bloodied hallways. Tripping over corpses, running into walls, calling for his Meister and friends. He was terrified for Hiro - the smaller boy had been frightened before they'd even fallen down into the monster's lair - he could only imagine what he was feeling now. If he was still alive, that is. From what Twain had learned of H. H. Holmes, he understood that this was absolutely _not_ a place you wanted to be by yourself. Which was why Lord Death had sent them out in teams like this, the Weapon realized belatedly. It had probably been a bad idea for them to split up in the first place.

"Hiro!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to project further. He had no clue if it was a good plan for him to do such a thing, but it might be the only way to find his Meister. Holmes knew that they were all there, anyway, so it wasn't like announcing his presence was going to do anything worse for him.

The maze around him seemed endless. He'd taken to only walking forward, but for some reason, he never reached a dead end. There were only turns and twists and he had no way of knowing if he was going in circles or not. He hoped that his friends were having an easier time navigating than he was, though he knew that Hiro and Mirielle both had sucky senses of direction. But, then again, it wasn't as though Twain had a bad one, and he was struggling badly.

A whisper sounded from his right, but it was just like all the other murmurs and voices he'd heard so far - just white noise. Likely Holmes' doing, to disorient them even further. Didn't make it any less frightening or unsettling, though - it kind of sounded like it was calling him into the darkness; like it was willing him to just give up already. He wondered if that was how the Kishin egg liked to torment his victims before he killed them... if it was like a fun game for him.

Silence settled around him again for a heartbeat, before it was shattered by a bone-chilling scream.

It sounded like it was everywhere, all at once, and Twain slammed his hands over his ears to try and block the sound out.

"Help me! Oh, god, _please_! Anybody! _Stop!_ "

Then, cutting through the screams and pleas, came a more familiar voice. "I'm coming! I'll help! Where are you?!" the girl demanded, and Twain heard footsteps approaching rapidly from ahead and to the right. An intersecting hallway broke off into his own, and Mirielle sprinted out, stopping at the junction and looking around wildly. The other person was still screaming and begging for help, but it stopped abruptly as something above Mirielle opened and a body dropped down. The noose around the woman's neck caught her before she hit the ground, snapping her neck in the process. The young Meister barely leaped back in time to keep from touching the victim, her eyes wide and panicked.

Shaken, Twain stepped forward, reaching for the girl's shoulder. "Mir, are you alright?" he asked, and watched as the girl reached forward to touch the soul that had fallen from the woman's dead body. Her hands barely came into contact with the illuminated, moving spirit when liquid began to drip down from above. It landed on her outstretched palms, and she and Twain both reluctantly looked up.

It was, without a doubt, the most frightening thing Twain had ever seen. Stretched out over the chute that had dropped and hanged the woman was a creature with four long legs that braced against the walls to keep it from falling down. Its head was almost humanoid, but the jaw was widened so much that the skin on the cheeks had split and opened up to the inside, which was filled with dozens of needle-like teeth. Two goat horns curled back around the pointed ears, and a long, forked tail hung down beneath it. An upside-down cross was burned into its forehead.

Mirielle pushed through the initial shock first, swallowing hard before she spoke. "H. H. Holmes?" she asked, squaring her jaw and setting her stance into something more solid. The creature growled, deep in its throat, and lashed its tail. "You're not even partway human anymore, are you?" Her expression morphed into something akin to pity. "You really are a monster."

The creature gave a bloodthirsty screech and dropped. Twain grabbed Mirielle's wrist and jerked her to the side with him, narrowly managing to keep the two of them from being crushed by the Kishin egg. The two DWMA students sprinted off down the hall, and the monster's tail shot after them. It wrapped around the girl's ankle, twisting it out from under her and causing her to flop forward, directly onto her face. Understandably dazed, she made no move to get back up.

Not allowing himself to think, Twain leaped between Mir and the monster, working on transforming his forearm into the blade at the end of his spear. It would be impossible for him to fight Holmes on his own, but he had no choice but to try. Otherwise, there would be no hope for any of them to survive.

"Hold your breath!"

He felt his Meister's soul before he saw him. The sensation of their connection came at the same moment that something rolled past his feet and exploded into a plume of smoke that quickly filled the room. He obeyed the command, blocking off his airways and stretching out his hand as Hiro raced through the smoke. A smaller hand slipped into his own, and he made the full transformation into his spear form.

Their connection had grown easier to complete over the past few weeks, and he felt their souls join together smoothly. He could sense Hiro's reluctance to fight, but it was overcome by the determination to do what it was that they had come here to do. He felt a surge of pride at how brave his Meister was being, in spite of his initial anxiety and fear. He'd made the right choice with Hiro; he understood that better now.

Holmes was fast. He swung one, massive-clawed hand at Hiro, but the little Meister managed to duck the attack and jab the end of Twain's spear form at the Kishin egg's side. It nicked its target, but didn't do any real damage. Holmes swung his tail in return and slammed it against Hiro's gut, sending him flying into the wall behind him. Twain fell from his hands and clattered against the ground, but was retrieved quickly. It was obvious that his Meister was thinking on his feet; trying hard to come up with any idea that might save all of their lives.

The monster was looming over them again, tail lashing and saliva pouring from its mouth. It growled and opened its mouth wide to lunge at the Weapon and Meister duo - Twain was alarmed to find that Hiro had frozen up in fear.

Bright green light illuminated the hallway, and a bolt of energy hit the side of Holmes' head. It knocked his mouth off-course, which gave Hiro enough time to get out of the way into somewhere a bit more safe. Twain looked from his Weapon form and saw Mirielle standing further down the hall, dented sniper rifle in hand. Blood was pouring from her nose, but she grinned brightly when she saw that the soul attack had worked, if only for a moment.

Twain felt Hiro's soul channel more easily through him as his Meister swung hard at Holmes' underbelly. The curved end of his spear dug deep into the Kishin egg, all the way up to the shaft. Hiro's unstable wavelength shot through the end of the spear, putting more power into the attack, and Holmes' grotesque body abruptly split apart before their eyes. In its wake lay a crimson red soul, pulsating weakly in the darkness.

As both Weapons transformed back into their human selves, it occurred to Twain that there was only one soul to split between two teams.

"You guys take it," Mirielle said, as though reading his mind. And, before Aland could protest her decision, she put her finger to his lips. "You don't want to take that soul. We didn't kill Holmes - they did. There'll be plenty of other chances for us," she urged on, hazel eyes round and expectant. It would've been a cute puppy-dog face, had she not still had blood dripping down from her nose.

Instead of responding, Aland reached out to pinch the bridge of his Meister's nose. Twain suspected it was half to stop the bleeding, and half to shut her up. It was effective, because Mirielle mewled in pain, but didn't argue further and instead let her Weapon do as he wished with her.

Before he took the soul, Twain turned to his own Meister in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, eyebrows knitting with worry when he saw that Hiro was holding his left side, where he'd likely smacked against the wall during Holmes' attack. "You're not hurt bad, are you?"

"I'm good," Hiro assured, tugging his shirt up to take a look at his side in the dim lighting. "A little bruised, but it'll be fine."

Twain sighed, relieved that he was alright, and took the soul in hand. He wasn't sure what to expect from the taste, but it wasn't what he got. The texture was slimy, and it was surprisingly cool in his mouth. It didn't have a flavor - it mostly just tasted like nothing, but the texture and temperature was... pleasant, almost. It was refreshing, after the fight. Twain wasn't sure if he wanted to be a Death Scythe anytime soon, but at that moment, something in his head began mentally calculating the number of souls left until they could reach that goal.

* * *

 **([** Symphony **])**

* * *

April 30th, 2017  
11:35 am  
 _Aland Grimoire_

* * *

It took around an hour to find their way out of the labyrinth, and they hadn't bothered to try and gather up all the human souls. They would tell Lord Death about it later, but for now, it was celebration time... or so Mirielle claimed. His Meister had been cheering about donuts ever since they had gotten out of the underground, and since they'd been in Holmes' lair for about nine hours, Aland could guess that they were all hungry. There was no need to argue with her.

He wasn't sure where the girl got all of her energy, though. She'd snatched him by the wrist and tugged him along ahead of Twain and Hiro in search of the nearest Krispy Kreme. The Weapon attributed it to delirium from bloodloss. Her nose had refused to clot up for quite a while, and Aland was beginning to get frustrated - not _worried_ , mind you; _absolutely_ not - by the time it finally stopped pouring. It hadn't broken, thankfully, but it was sore and stuffy.

"What kind of donuts do you like, Ally?" Mir asked, glancing back at him as she led him on by his wrist, like a dog on a leash.

He smirked, coming up with something on the fly. "Strawberry filled - it looks like blood when you bite into it."

"Hmm," his Meister hummed, unfazed by his statement. Instead, she tipped her head thoughtfully. "I like just plain chocolate glazed. Ooh, or maple glazed!" she enthused, and Aland could swear she was drooling. "They taste like really, really, really sweet pancakes! I'm going to get you one today so you can see."

Aland rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Do whatever you want. Can't promise I'll eat it."

She turned to offer him a smile. "It'll be nice to have as an option, anyway. Besides, you were awesome today! You totally deserve a maple donut. The smoke bomb was a great idea - I never woulda thought of something like that!" Aland grew uncomfortable under all the compliments, feeling his cheeks heat up. He pulled his hood over his head to cover the redness he was sure had spread over his cheeks. He grumbled in response, turning his head awkwardly to the side.

Mirielle noticed, however, and glanced over at Hiro, who was a few steps behind them. "Hey, Hiro, you know that type of character that gets all blushy and grouchy when they get compliments?"

"A tsundere," Hiro answered immediately, and Mir grinned cheekily at her Weapon.

"That's you!" she chirruped in an overly-cheerful tone, giving his wrist a tug to hurry him along in their donut search.

He sighed deeply and burrowed down further underneath his hood. "Shoulda let Holmes eat you," he muttered under his breath, but Mir heard. Laughter bubbled from within her chest, bright and happy even with the insult. The Weapon narrowed his eyes at her and set his jaw. "What the hell is so funny?" he growled, and her hazel eyes lit up as they met his gray.

"I probably taste like maple donuts!"

Yeah - she was delirious.

* * *

 **([ Symphony ])**

* * *

 **An -** _Hey! I actually updated within two days of my last update! And with a really really really big chapter! I'm not going to spend much time on the AN this time around, but I wanted to thank you guys for your continued support and ask that you keep on sending PMs and reviewing, because that helps me so much. Thank you!_

 _Main Question of the Day: Do you guys have any ships so far for the story? Just wondering c;_

 _Secondary Question of the Day: Would you guys like a Pinterest page for this story?_

 _UPDATE: I forgot that Death City was in Nevada, not Arizona! Rip. Anyway, big thank you to KenjiSpiritSlasher both for the correction and for helping me through my writer's block by teaching me a method of creating Kishin eggs and for choosing locations!_

 _Have a wonderful, wonderful day!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


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